Harry Potter and  The discovered heart
by oldfashionedromantic
Summary: When Ron leaves the tent that night...Herminone begins to realize her where her own affections lie.  Written for natilliatenajr's Deathly Hallows Challenge. H/Hr. Complete
1. 1

1

Hermione Granger sat in the tent that came from her magic bag; she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her pale eyelids shaped to arching teardrops to accommodate the bitterness leaking from them. Her brown hair hung mussed and limp on her forehead with sadness, her makeup smeared to mar the prettiness of her delicate face. It was going to be a long night, a long and painful night full of memories which would serve only to plague the little rest she could get. Dreams of Ron's angry face, the echo of 'You choose **him**' …

Not that it would matter, for one could hardly expect to get a good night's sleep in wartimes anyway. The seventeen-year-old sighed as a yawn escaped her lips, knuckling her eyes to fight off the itchiness in them.

The radio beside her started to play a sad love song, causing her already sad mood to become even sadder still. She remembered the wedding just gone by, when Bill and Fleur had been so happy and when she and Ron had danced the night away. Remembered the smell of food on his dress-robes for he never stopped eating and wondered if she would ever smell that again. More cold tears spilled onto her cheeks and one solitary drop touched the corner of her mouth. She made a move to smear it on the back of her sleeve but put her arm down when the flap of the tent flipped back from a strong wind.

She leapt up and went to close it, tugging at the material hard enough that if she were not careful she would have pulled it over. In fact, she did, and the massive structure would have flattened her. It would have done so if not for the strong white hand that caught the other half and pulled it upright. Hermione looked up and her chocolate-brown eyes met with the green ones of The Boy Who Lived. He had a serious expression on his face, but she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"You don't need to take it out on the tent Hermione." Harry said.

"Shut up!" she snapped, wiping her eyes angrily.

The amusement in his eyes faded away to sympathy, and when she turned to stalk back in to the tent he caught her hand. Turning, she saw that there were tears in his eyes too, but his were different and he looked so alone. She sighed and pulled away from him, motioning for him to come in, she shook her head. He sat down next to her, but made no move to start a conversation. For a while the two of them sat there silent, staring at the flame in the lamp until Harry finally could bare it no more.

"Hermione…" Harry's voice, "Please…"

"Please what? _Please what?" _she started to cry again.

He sighed running his fingers through his hair; this was the same story every night. Ron was gone, stormed out of the tent and now she sat in here day-in-day-out.

"You miss Ron." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she replied.

"I know it's hard…" he said.

"No you don't," she cried, "First my parents…now R-Ron…" she cried.

Harry didn't say anything, because he did not half to, the look she gave him told her everything he needed to know. Hermione nodded sadly and eyed the floor of the tent, avoiding his eyes and he lifted his hand to cup her chin and then her eyes locked with his. Harry stood to his feet, reaching down to gently take her hand.

Hermione smiled slightly when another sad intimate song began, Harry recognized it as, Nick Cave's 'Oh Children' to float through the tent. Harry smiled back, closed-mouthed and began to gently lead her in a dance. 'Round and around they went till tired from their dance they landed on the bunk.

"He's just…not ready." Harry said trying to sound soothing.

She nodded, realizing that Ron was 'not ready' for a great many things yet, _her _being one of them. He was while reasonably handsome not mature enough to be tender with her feelings, or to give her proper attention when she needed it. Still, the ache of losing her first love was still prominent and sharp. She cried again and pushed at him, but Harry just put his arm around her.

"Hermione, Ron's just… well he's." Harry's voice trailed off.

Hermione nodded, and she yawned hugely, in a very unladylike way. Harry smiled as she belatedly covered her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered.

"It's okay." he said softly, "Get some sleep.

She nodded, "Night Harry." She said, smiling as he gave her a hug.

A warm fuzziness came over her and she lay down, closing her eyes. For the first time that night, she did not cry. She did not hiccough in sadness, she did not even frown. That night, she dreamed not of Ron's angry face, but a pair of green eyes and black hair... a sypathetic smile...and warm arms.


	2. 2

2

The following night was far less dismal then those that had passed between Harry and Hermione. The two of them chattered away, laughing about old memories and joking about almost everything. They ate little snacks with one another, played tag and acted like small children, happy to escape the fear of Lord Voldemort even for the briefest of moments. Hermione never once asked Harry why there'd been tears in his eyes the night before, because she did not want to talk about it. So, in the way of teenage girls and their exacting one-sided nature, she kept her mouth shut, figuring that he did not want to talk about it.

She was, sadly mistaken for Harry really needed someone to talk to and to express his worries and sorrows. But of course, it being close to Christmastime he in turn kept his silence, not wanting the Yule Tide season to be ruined with the unpleasantness of recent events. So, the pair of teenage magicians spent the time enjoying one another's company and when night came retired to their tent with a companionable 'good night' to each other.

One night, when the two of them were tucked snuggly in their sleeping bags and Harry snoring away beside Hermione she lay awake, thinking. Hermione thought of her dreams, dreams of him, wondering why she thought about him so much. She turned to see him, his hand semi-crumpled in a half-fist and his eyes closed. She smiled, thinking how adorable he looked. Harry slept on, oblivious to her inspection of his features.

She looked next at his lips, noticing how firm they looked. Soft but rough all at once, the smile that curved them angelic in its masculinity. Hermione also noticed how white he was, like a sheet of marble almost in his own right, how easily his chest rose and fell with his steady even breathing. The seventeen-year-old sighed as she recalled becoming him with that drop of Polyjuice Potion. Touching her chest she thought she could just feel the strength of his chest, the light ripple of his muscles.

Harry Potter was beautiful.

Hermione blinked, 'beautiful…' where did that come from? She had never thought of him like that, she had thought him handsome certainly and sometimes down-right adorable in a little-boy way. She always thought Ron beautiful, red hair and blue eyes, those adorable smatterings of freckles on his cheeks and nose. To her Ron had always been beautiful, Hermione sighed, but then Ron had been quite _as _beautiful as Harry.

She attributed this newfound revelation to Harry's maturity, the way he carried himself, the gentlemanliness about him and the way it clung to him in an almost old-fashioned way. It clung to him like a second skin. She did not know why she was thinking like that, but she could not help it. Hermione supposed that it was because she missed the man she loved. Yes, that's what it was; she missed Ron…just like Harry said. But, still as she looked at Harry, the word 'beautiful' kept running through her mind. It kept her awake, for she was unable to take her eyes from his sleeping face. Just when she thought she was going to be able to fall asleep, she found herself looking into his green eyes.

"Harry…" she said somewhat awkwardly.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head and took out a match, and lit the lamp. They had agreed to lay off the magic because they didn't want any more unfortunate episodes with the Horcrux. Harry stared at her for a moment, noticing the way the orange-gold firelight reflected in her deep chocolate eyes, flickered softly off her pale face. It lit soft shadows wherever there was a fold in her features. She was beautiful, perfectly beautiful and Ron was a fool to have left her.

What was he thinking? He was in love with Ginny, Ginny! But still, he could not help but let his eyes scan over her delicate features. The shapely arcs of her eyebrows, the softness of her chin as it supported her full lips…

"What are you staring at?" she asked him.

"You're…" Harry started.

"What?" she laughed.

"Beautiful." Harry said

She laughed out loud, "No…" she said.

"But you _are!" _ Harry said vehemently. "Really, you're… wow…"

Hermione was about to protest again but Harry caught her chin and her eyes locked with his. His deep emeralds mingled with the chocolate-brown eyes of hers and he leaned in before she could say a word. The kiss he gave her was warm and gentle, and she caught his head, holding onto him. Harry brought his arms up around her and they deepened the kiss, His right arm pulled her closer to shackle her to him.

He groaned as she brought her hands up to squeeze his arms as they came to grasp his shoulders. Hermione gasped deeply to catch a little air and she pushed him against the cloth wall of the tent. But, just like that the spell was broken, when Hermione pulled away with a gasp.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I-I don't know." It wasn't a lie.

Harry sighed and got to his feet, thinking that he knew why, she loved Ron and he wasn't him. It seemed that she missed him more than she wanted to admit to herself. He picked up the locket without a word and excited the tent, hoping the cold night air would clear his head.


	3. 3

3

Long after that kiss, Hermione stood in the tent, rooted to the spot where she had watched Harry leave her. She touched her lips, surprised at their tingled after-affect and thought over what she had just done and why. Of course, she knew the answer to the second question: Harry had kissed her first and she had kissed him back because that was the obvious thing to do. All right then next question why had she let him kiss her, again another easy question: she was lonely. Yes, that's all, she was lonely and she missed the man she loved.

But then maybe it wasn't that simple, because there was one question she did not know the answer to. Why was she reacting to his kiss the way she was? Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes feeling incredibly guilty for enjoying his kiss so much. For wanting it so much when she was in love with another man however immature he might be. Her love was red-haired and forgot-me-not eyed with spotted skin and breath that smelled of food.

He was pale and the hair on his chest was as fiery as that he had on his head and when he held her, his embrace was almost weak. The man she loved was not black-haired with pale, almost ivory skin and emerald eyes that if a woman was not careful could drown in. Oh no, why did she blush so at a complement from him. Why from her best friend and not from her now ex-boyfriend? Yes, she admitted it, though she did not want to believe it, she knew in her heart that she and Ron were never meant to be. Then again, Ron had never called her 'beautiful' either. Oh he'd dropped a complement here and there, calling her 'pretty' and sometimes 'cute', but never 'beautiful.'

Still, Hermione felt guilty over her lack of self-control… but, then that kiss. Oh yes, that goddamn kiss, what had it done to her? Why did she feel like this when he touched her, when she had been with Ron she had never felt_ that_ with Ron! His kisses were rough and hard when he wanted something from her, but nothing she would give. Ron's lips were demanding and not at all persuasive when he offered her a kiss. Harry on the other hand, his kiss was soft and coaxing and never asking anything of her. They prodded her and warmed her, as though he was more asking her permission. Then it hit her…like a good punch to the gut.

She was in love with Harry Potter, and maybe, just maybe he loved her back. No, she was fooling herself; he was in love with Ginny Weasley, the beautiful fiery redhead with blue eyes and a calm disposition. Hermione sighed; she wasn't surprised of course, what man wouldn't her? Ginny was after all, the so-mentioned 'perfect girl' submissive because of having six brothers and a silly, over-indulgent father and beautiful in a quiet way that was desired by most of the men of England even nowadays.

Just then the pitter-patter of heavy snowfall hit the roof of the tent and Hermione ran out to see Harry back into the tent. Harry meanwhile was sitting Indian-style with his hand cupping his chin in thought. Hermione stood still for a moment and watched him, noticing that his eyelids were droopy and he looked sleepy enough to pass out where he was. He looked as adorable as ever and Hermione hated to wake him from his almost-sleep.

"Harry…" she said softly, shaking his shoulder for his attention.

"Mph, what?" he asked groggily.

Hermione shook her head, thinking about the way he looked right now, giggling at the sleepiness in his voice. Harry, turning to her, raised one jet-black eyebrow in question to his friend. She shushed him and pulled him forward to the tent where she laid him down.

"Hermione come here, "she raised her eyebrows and sat beside him, he took her hand, "I love you." He moaned sleepily.

Hermione blinked for several moments and laughed, trying to shirk off the shock she was feeling. "Go to sleep Harry, you're tired and babbling."

"No, no I'm not. Well I'm tired but I'm not babbling," He said groggily, "Bloody Hell Hermione I'm an idiot! Six years, I've known you for six years and I'm just figuring this out! I'm an idiot!"

"Harry, you're not an idiot and you're _not in love with me! _ You're in love with Ginny, just like I'm in love with Ron." She said as firmly as her now quavering voice would allow.

Harry looked sad, almost crushed at her response but he made no further remark as she picked up her wand and went outside to keep watch. She pressed the Horcrux close to her neck, almost wishing that the Dark Lord's evil spirit would come and take her life. The young witch sighed when she heard Harry's snore gurgling softly inside the tent. He had said he loved her, Harry Potter said he loved her…

Hermione shook her head, it was just like she had said, he was tired and babbling and he too missed the woman he loved. Yes, he missed the woman he loved so he would try to compensate for her absence. Still she wished it were otherwise and even now as she tried to convince herself that her statement was true: that she loved Ron, she could not stop the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

"Oh no, why am I in turmoil with two men?" she cried.

The tears that fell down her cheeks were made of pure confusion, mingled with her inner turmoil. As she watched the sky turn red and then blue, two birds chirped in the tree above her. The tent flapped open and Harry came out, still struggling with his shirt.

"My turn." He said, taking her wand and the locket, "Get some shuteye all right." he told her.

She nodded and turned to go back to the tent, once inside she flopped down on her sleeping bag, "I'm in love with Ron…" she whispered, "_Ron!" _she repeated but she knew it was a lie.


	4. 4

4

Harry sat there, the evil locket on his neck, twirling Hermione's wand in his fingers like a baton. He was so bored, waiting for her to wake up and having nothing better to do, look up to count the stars glimmering above his head. That did not do him any good, while it kept his mind occupied the constant inner droning of the numbers made his head start to droop. So he cupped his chin and began to hum an old song that his aunt Petunia had often sang to herself the days he was not at home and the housework was overwhelming.

Something called, "All I ask of you," from some Broadway play by some Andrew Lloyd Webber person. Harry himself had never really cared much for Broadway or classical music of any kind, but living with the Dursleys had been forced to listen to it. Particularly when he had been sleeping in that covert under the stairs and Petunia would play that song every day during breakfast. It was impossible for him not to hear it when he slept so close to her kitchen.

Now it was stuck in his head, he massaged his temples to try and get it out, wishing he had something else to think about. Then Harry got his wish but immediately thought of that old proverb, 'be careful what you wish for.' He thought of Hermione and why he had all of a sudden confessed to falling for her. Great, now came the age-old question of did he love Ginny or Hermione more…did he love either one of them?

Harry sighed and stood up, feeling lost and confused, and wondering what he should do. Voldemort was on the rise, the greatest war in Wizarding history was impending and all he could think about was his heart. There was nothing for it he had been too distracted and he had to think about Hermione and Ginny some other time. Time to think of his next move: where to find the next Horcrux. He had to find the next relic before any of the Death Eaters did…if they got it first…Harry closed his eyes.

"No…" he heard mumbling coming from somewhere nearby.

Harry got to his feet, looking around the campsite when he heard the rustle of something in the brush. Then, to his horror, a black-cloaked figure seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He felt suddenly cold, chilled to the bone. It was Harry's worst fear come realized, a Dementor. But only this time the thing, that horrible creature had Hermione by the throat. She was struggling, struggling hard, but then the thing leaned down and brushed its hood to her mouth and a silver thread was being dragged from her mouth.

"No!" Harry's anguished cry broke free, raising the wand, "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted.

The white glowing stag appeared but did nothing, looked all about itself. Harry looked at in horror wondering what was wrong. Had he cast the spell incorrectly? Darkness was all around him. Hermione had been dropped to the ground lifeless and staring at nothing. Her soul drained by the evil thing's greed, and Harry felt sick.

_"Harry, I'm gone, why didn't you save me?" _Hermione's voice echoed.

"No!" Harry's voice grew in pitch, in anguish the soft cry not able to rise in volume, but it did no good.

_"Why didn't you save me?"_ again that soft, pained inquiry

She then faded away, gone from him forever…The wizard turned white and then with a start realized that he faced not a Dementor but a Boggart. He got to his feet with renewed determination, raising the wand to point at the creature.

_"Riddikulus!" _he snapped.

Pop! The crackle of the spell went off and Hermione got to her feet wearing the cloak herself and dancing clumsily. Harry sighed softly, collapsing to his knees in relief and closing his eyes. The shock sent a wave of nausea at him and he vomited on the groud in front of him. Getting up, he wiped his mouth and looked up trying to focus his dizzy eyes. He had given up and closed them again when he heard Hermione come out of the tent. She was by his side in seconds as he fell down again.

"Harry!" she said worriedly,"Are you all right?" she asked as she sat him up, he could give no verbal response, his voice thick in his throat from shock. "I'll finish up, " she said pulling him toward the tent and laying him down. Harry pretended to be asleep when heheard Hermione leave, but as he heard the flap hiss, he started to hum.

_"No more talk of darkness...forget these wide-eyed fears..."_

Harry smirked at the irony, after all that was all that was left, darkness and fears.


	5. 5

5

Hermione had woken up when she heard the shout of 'Expecto Patronum!' and come out to see that he had gotten sick. She, being the good friend that she was, had run to his side and put him to bed, of course, she had heard the popping of the charm as well. The witch cursed unladylike under her breath and lifted her wand, muttering every protective charm she knew. Seriously, why had they agreed to lay off the magic when she knew they needed it most? Hermione shook her head at her own foolishness, to keep the Death Eaters at bay.

"Hermione you bloody git!" the seventeen-year-old muttered.

If the Death Eaters were going to find them they were going to find them and they would not hesitate to use even the unforgivable curses. Hermione gulped at the three most dreaded spells known: torture, murder, and mind control. Worse, if they used a combination of the three they might turn her against Harry. Make her kill him; no Lord Voldemort wanted that pleasure for himself. Worse than that they would make her torture him and then when he was in agony, _then _he would kill him. She shuddered at the thought.

"Hermione…no, no," Harry's voice came through the tent.

She winced at the undiluted anguish in his voice and went back into the tent to try to comfort him. He was sweaty, the white t-shirt he wore drenched with perspiration, almost see-through, and his glasses were off, green eyes wide with the near-paralysis of his nighttime terror. God, he was gorgeous, so marble-like with emerald eyes. She shook her head, not the time! Hermione knelt down beside him, touching his shoulder. Harry did not respond twisting away from her before waking with a violent start. He looked around frantically, groping for his glasses.

"Lumos…" Hermione whispered, thinking to help him out.

The tip of her wand lit up, the little bulb gleaming just bright enough to help him find them. He put them on just as Hermione snuffed out the little globe. She set her wand down and made to ask him what the matter was, but he caught her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss. Harry took advantage of the little gasp of surprise she released to deepen it. He drugged himself with her kiss; she gripped his shoulders and pushed him down on the sleeping bag.

She tugged at his shirt, and pulled it off, liking the smoothness of his skin, the warmth of his arms. Harry groaned bracing himself with one hand on the fabric, pushing himself up to elevate his chin. She ran her left hand into the black vines of hair on his chest, tangling her fingers up in the thick mass. Harry groaned harshly, kissing her, drugging her with the turmoil of emotions. It was heaven to him; he knew who he wanted what he wanted.

He brought her up to him, pulling her down so that she was on top of him. Darkness consumed both of them; the only light was the fire in the lamp, casting soft shadows around them. Hermione pulled away from him, looking into his heavy eyes before, blinking away the passion in her eyes. Harry looked confused by her sudden retreat, trying to pull her back down for another kiss but she pushed him away, turning her face aside to avoid his eyes.

"Ron…" she whispered.

Harry got to his feet, angry at her for kissing him and then bringing him up. "Ron, Ron, Ron it's always Ron!"

"Harry…" Hermione whispered so softly that he barely heard her.

"Harry, 'Harry' always Harry with that sympathetic tone, and that look in your eyes, that poor scared kid look!" He snapped, turning to her with fire in his green eyes, "Hermione why can't you just admit that you love me and get on with it?"

Hermione stood rooted to the spot and then she cried her tears were not harsh but sad and full of emptiness. Harry sighed, waiting for a response and not intending to comfort her at all. That was his intention, but when she looked at him he went forward and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his shirt.

"Harry… I love both of you, but you, your love is so…different from his…" Harry sighed at her mumbled confession.

Harry lifted her chin and kissed her, seriously this was getting ridiculous, she kissed him back. He groaned when she pulled him down to her, but she pulled away, giving him a quick hug around the waist. He tried to hold her again but she pulled away, laid him down and went back out to finish the watch. Crying all the time for the love of the one who wanted her, the one who did not love her –or so she thought- and the feelings for the both of the men.


	6. 6

6

The following morning was awkward for the pair of them, but that was to be expected. After all the argument from the night before –or rather Harry's rant and Hermione's quiet confession- still fresh in both of their minds. Harry hardly said two words to Hermione other than a curt, dull, 'good morning' and she said nothing but offered a nod. They ate their snacks, changed clothes and took a walk together as they thought over what to do next. Harry walked on with a thoughtful expression, Hermione lagged behind him, not wanting to look at his face after last night.

"Godric's Hollow!" Harry suddenly shouted.

He turned to her, motioning for her to come over and when she did he said nothing looked at her happily. Hermione turned to him raising her eyebrows as though she were supposed to know what he meant by blurting out, 'Godric's Hollow.' She waited for a few minutes longer before becoming a little annoyed. She started to tap her foot the way she always did when things were unclear to the point of frustration, looking at him peevishly. It seemed to finally click in his brain that she was waiting for him to explain himself.

"Hermione, we've got to go to Godric's Hollow." Harry said, a bright smile coming to his face.

"No… Harry we can't go there…" Hermione said.

"Why not?" he asked, curious as to what her problem was now.

"Because, the Dark Lord knows you would go there, seeing as that's where your parents were buried and all."

"Yeah, so?" he asked, peevish.

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning her face up to the sky to avoid him seeing the irritation in her eyes. Harry really could be dense sometimes, what part of 'the Dark Lord knows you would go there' was unclear? Still, she could see the raw want in his eyes, dare she think, the _need_? He needed to see the place of his parent's burial once in his life and who knows, the next Horcrux might be there. Hell, the answer to the relic they already had might be there too.

"All right, we'll go to Godric's Hollow, who knows what we'll find there anyway." she said.

God this was such a bad idea, such a bad idea! But one look at Harry's brightened eyes and she felt her hesitation melt away. Hermione had to give him this; she had to let him see his would-have-been home at least one time. So with a sigh she and Harry took off towards their destination walking slowly but steadily.

It took them three days to reach Godric's Hollow, by then it was Christmas Eve, snow covered the ground and it dripped down from the sky. The pair of them were dressed in the winter garb that they had packed before they left. Harry and Hermione wandered about them, passing old abandoned buildings, everything from cottage-sized homes to massive shops. She shuddered at the smell of old charred wood and Harry walked forward looking about him as though he was searching for the ghosts of residence long-dead.

But he stood still, rooted to the spot where a churchyard stood, Hermione sighed inwardly as he walked into it. He stopped in front of a grave; Hermione did not need to guess whose grave it was, she walked up to him. Harry's chin was crinkled, like he was about to cry: Potter: James and Lily and underneath them, was 1960-1981. She held him by the shoulder, rubbing it tenderly. One night soon after this, Hermione saw Harry sitting up, his head on his knees. Hermione was puzzled, it was not his watch and he should be asleep.

So she went over to him, finding to her surprise that he was crying. She sat down next to him putting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, sniffling and wiping his snotty nose on the back of his hand. Hermione reached over, stroking his dark hair. He leaned forward when she opened her arms and grabbed her. The young witch was startled for a moment, but then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his earlobe gently.

"Harry…" she said softly.

"Why didn't they love me?" he asked his voice shaky.

"I'm sure they did, it's just well…You-Know-Who… like Hagrid said, 'and no one ever lived after lived after he decided to kill them." She whispered.

"They left me alone, all alone with the Dursleys to face a life of misery…" he started to cry.

Hermione did not know what to do, so she went over to the dirt on the side of the road and picked up a lump of snow. She tossed it at his head and hit her target, bull's-eye. Her father had always said she was a good shot. Harry turned around just as she threw another one at him, it smacked him in the face and he laughed. Harry picked up his own lump of snow at her. He missed completely, and smiled when she hit him again. He came back behind her and rolled up a big snowman-sized snowball and shoved her into it when she was not looking.

"Okay truce!" Hermione laughed, taking the hand he offered and pulling herself up.

"Merry Christmas Hermione," Harry whispered.

"Merry Christmas Harry," Hermione whispered back.

They wrapped each other in a tight hug, Hermione held him for dear life as she realized that she was in love with Harry Potter. Irrevocably in love with him and that she had been a fool, in denial over what she wanted. Too stuck in her _infatuation _with Ron to notice where he heart lied. So, tonight she decided, tonight she was with the man she loved.


	7. 7

7

Harry went back into the tent, Hermione following behind him closely. Wondering how she was going to tell him that she had picked him, she really did want to tell him. Wanted to beg his forgiveness for pulling away from him all those times and make amends for hurting him. She wanted him to tell her that he loved him, wanted to hold him and pour her heart out to him.

Now, problem number one: would he believe her? After all that would he trust her to know that she loved him? Would he think she just wanted to have someone to hold her and love her because Ron was not here? She sighed and watched him get ready for bed. Problem number two: same thing as problem one only reversed. Hermione was getting a headache from this and knuckled her temples to relieve the pressure.

His shirt was off and she once again faced with the man she loved being topless in an almost scandalous way. It was not at all proper for a young man to undress in front of a lady. Although this time, since there was nowhere else for him to go, he had no choice.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to hold him, but did not know how to go about it. Should she go up and grab onto him? No, too wanton and awkward besides, but then she could think of no other way. So, she walked up and kissed him, he wasted no time kissing her back, holding her closer. Hermione knew that if she stopped now he would leave and never come back. But this time she had no intention of pulling away. No thoughts of Ron would make her pull away tonight, no heartache for the man that left her. Just Harry and her and their love, and the Yuletide season casting its soft warmth with the beauty of the fallen snow.

"Hermione…" Harry whispered as she held onto the back of his head, "What are you doing?"

"Shh, I love you." She whispered.

Harry pulled back for a moment looking at her with surprise written in his eyes, wide-eyed with something like shock. It was fleeting though; He reached up and pulled her down to him for a kiss, holding him in place as well when she kissed him back Hermione reveled in how warm he was. Harry brought one arm around her like a brace as he leaned back on the sleeping bag, pulling her down on the bed. He grabbed her hair, with the other hand and tugged it back to let the tie she wore loose so her wavy brown hair fell down to the small of her back. Harry ran his fingers through the thick mop, she giggled when he grabbed onto her neck.

"What?" she asked.

Harry shook his head and kissed her fully, rolling over so she was underneath him. He took of his glasses, tossing them to the side as though they meant nothing to him. Indeed, they did not; all that mattered to him now was the girl in his arms. It seemed like they had been in love forever as he reached to tug of his shirt and jacket but having a rather hard time of it because of his clumsy hands. Hermione laughed and pushed his hands aside, reaching up with her own she unfastened one of the buttons after the other. Her hands tangled in the vines of black hair of his chest.

The night was closing in on them, faster and faster, the light dribbling away along with their senses. Harry sat up and Hermione positioned herself to straddle him. He let out a long, throaty groan, thick with so many emotions that he was oblivious to all else. She smiled, nipping his neck with little love-bites, smiling when he lifted his neck to give her better access.

"Hermione… are you sure you want to…" he faltered.

"Shh," Hermione put her index finger to his lips to quiet him, "Harry, its Christmas and I want to share it with you. Please, don't argue with me." She leaned down to kiss him again.

"But Ron…" Harry whispered.

"Is not here, now shush." She said and kissed him, "I need this, I need to be in your arms, I love you and I don't know when I'll be able to hold you again." She said.

Just then Harry forgot all his reservations, gentlemanliness cast away as he realized that when he looked in her eyes he saw no deception. No, loss, no grief for the man who had left her, only love. Love and fear that she might never hold him again. He brought one arm around her, shackling her to him.

"Let's make love." He whispered.

"Yes." She replied.

**Love-scene coming next please review.**


	8. 8

8

"Yes." She repeated her voice hardly more than a whisper.

Harry's eyes were gleaming in the dim candlelight, green and deep, and all a-sparkle with love. He brought one arm around her, pulling her onto his lap and in for a kiss. She held onto the back of his head, her tongue stroking his mouth in perfect rhythm with his. They danced along the roofs of each other's mouths, taking time to taste one another, to memorize the touch of the other's kiss. Hermione moaned softly, grabbing his head to pull him closer to her. Harry, in turn brought his hand around to grab the back of neck in a paralyzing grip. Not that she could have moved anyway, her eyes were heavy and her breasts felt as though they weighed one-hundred pounds each. When they finally broke away from the kiss both were breathing heavily.

"Mmm…" she moaned when he gave her little bites on the neck, soothing the sting afterwards with a tender stroke of his tongue.

She tried to press his face closer to her neck to hold him there while she all but made love to him with her tongue on the back of his neck. Kissing him the same way she had kissed him on the lips. Very passionately –and very unpatriotically- in the French style, until he jerked his head back and groaned, hotly. Hermione pulled him down to her, intending fully to give herself to him right here, right now. But when she tried to remove his shirt however Harry stopped her.

"I want to take it slow." Harry whispered, "_Very _slow."

Hermione reached up and took of his glasses, "I want to look at you." She whispered.

He then bent his head, sliding her shirt down just slightly, ever-so-slightly to kiss her, rubbing her shoulder with his chin. She groaned softly as the little stubble scratched teasingly on her hyper-sensitive skin, she felt hot, so hot. Harry smirked and slid her shirt down a little further and began to give her little nips, she groaned and slid upwards so her stomach was where his lips were. Harry showed no mercy, sliding up her shirt to play with her bellybutton before kissing his way back up to her lips.

"Harry…." Her voice came out in a groan, thick and throaty and pleading.

"Not yet baby, I've got more for you." He whispered, eyes gleaming.

Harry slid her shirt up to her neck, his hands following the motion to rest just below the lush teardrops that were her breasts. He lightly brushed the tips of nipples with the pads of his left fingers. Hermione groaned and arched her back, Harry, liking this reaction grinned wickedly when she grabbed his shoulders to brace herself.

"Oh God…" she moaned and began tugging at his shirt.

"Tell me what you want baby." He whispered.

She began to tug at his shirt frantically, "This off!" she whispered.

"Ah-Ah-Ah baby…slowly remember…" He teased, undoing one of the buttons of his shirt.

Hermione whimpered again when he teased her breasts more, this time with mouth. She decided that she'd had enough of this torture and rolled over so that she was on top of him. Harry's eyes grew wide as she tore off his shirt, running her fingers over his broad bare chest. The light muscles on his chest rippled with pleasured shivers. She grabbed Harry by the head and brought his mouth crashing down on hers as he struggled out of his shirt completely and dropped it carelessly to the floor.

"Mmm…" they both moaned in unison as Harry tugged her shirt off, dropping it to the floor of the tent, He wanted her, wanted to hold her while he took her. Hermione seemed to want the same thing; she tugged his belt loose in an almost aggressive gesture before tugging down his pants.

She let out a small gasp, "Oh you're big! I don't think you'll fit me!" she said, gesturing to his manhood as he did so.

Harry smiled, "Oh I'll fit…" He tugged of her clothing all together, grinning devilishly as he kneaded her breast, nuzzled the long expanse of skin between them. Made her scream in the most scandalous wanton way, pure passion, and pure agony mingled with love and fear of their own inexperience. "Hermione, we can stop now…if you don't want to y'know, I won't force you."

"I want to," she whispered, "I want you."

That was the only encouragement he needed, he eased into her, feeling the burier of her virginity break away as a small whimper escaped her. "Ow," she whispered when she felt it break, the burn was unlike anything she had ever felt, in fact it was the worst pain she had ever felt, a few pained tears escaped her eyes to cascade down her face.

"Shh…" Harry soothed, "It'll be better soon." He gently kissed the tears away from her cheeks.

He began to pump into her, making sure to start her off slowly, that's what they both wanted, a slow lovemaking after their hot foreplay. Hermione was with him, moving at the slow rhythmic pace to match him, her back arching, her hands grabbing his shoulders. Harry grinned, thoroughly enjoying her reaction but found he was starting to lose control. Hermione arched her back and let out a long shaky moan as she hit her peak. That did the trick, Harry groaned exploding inside her.

"Harry, Harry, kiss me! Now!" Hermione brought his head down hard; their lips came crashing down with one another's. Stars wielding overhead, as she and he let out one last unified groan. They lay there with each other after that, basking in the peace of their afterglow, kissing one another deeply.

"I love you…" Hermione whispered, snuggling into his arms.

"Love you too." Harry said back, wrapping his arms around her.

Hermione let out a peaceful sigh, pillowing her head on his shoulder as they snuggled closer into one sleeping bag. They fell asleep like that, peaceful, gentle and warm secure in their love. Tonight there was no Voldemort, no war, and no abandonment, just the two of them in each other's arms.

**This is my first time doing a SERIOUS love-scene. Tell me how I did?**


	9. 9

9

Hermione woke up to find her love was gone from her side; of course she was mildly annoyed with him. One did not appreciate losing one's virginity and then waking to find its new keeper gone. Also it was cold, bitterly so and he was warm. Hermione sighed wondering where he could have gone she got up. The witch blinked a sudden wave of dizziness from her eyes as she got to her feet and shivered, shrugging her slender shoulders before exciting the tent.

The snow was chilly, and the wind had a cruel bite to it, she found Harry sitting by the tent, staring dumbly at the locket and twirling it in his fingers. Coming up to him, she placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, giving her a sleepy smile and offering her a hug which she accepted without hesitation. Arms around one another they sat there looking at the evil jewelry Hermione thought for a second and then smiled.

Harry returned the gesture but wondered what she was smiling about, but remembered the night before and grinned evilly. He took in her measure, sizing her up, she raised one eyebrow but let out a whoop when he swept her off her feet. He laughed out loud and gave her another hug before putting her down.

"Sorry couldn't resist." He said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and shot him a false, 'you are _so _dead' look. Harry tried to give her an 'I said I was sorry' look but failed miserably. They both busted up laughing, but the moment did not last, Harry's face turned serious and he looked down at the locket. They both looked at it, not knowing what else to do with the blasted thing; they had both tried everything to kill it. But nothing seemed to work, no curse or spell either one of them knew had any effect on it. Harry turned it over in his hand; it was warm from his body heat and wondered how such a small trinket would be worth it.

So many people were risking their lives, battling in the field with duels intended to kill. Not even the muggles were safe anymore; he remembered when the Dursleys had left Private Drive forever and although Harry remembered dreaming of that day since his early childhood, he still felt a pang of guilt. The young wizard massaged his temples; it seemed that whenever he got something he wanted there came with it a terrible price. Hermione for instance, he had won her, he had the woman he loved and she had given him everything that he'd gladly received.

But to get her he had given up his best friend. Not that he regretted what had happened the night before, never. Still, it seemed that things would never be simple again… first Dumbledore's death and then his poor owl; it seemed to him that all sense of comfort was gone.

How many people/creatures were going to die before this war was over and how many more people were going to be in pain. It almost made him cry, but he held it in because he did not want look weak in front of Hermione. Not that she would have been freaked out by his tears or thought them unmanly but still he wanted to keep some dignity for Christ's sake. So he sat there, brooding over his dilemma.

Hermione seemed to guess his train of thought; she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and leaned him down so his head was in her lap. This time he did cry, his tears fogging up his glasses so that he had to take them off.

_"If Hermione's next or if I'm next…" _he thought, suddenly drying his eyes, too frightened to cry anymore.

Hermione said nothing, petting his dark hair…they both wondered the same thing; all of a sudden she glanced at Harry and then darted away causing his head to plop to the ground. Harry sat up, rubbing his head where he had bumped it. The young witch ran towards the brush and began to vomit; Harry came up behind her quickly and held her hair back. He rubbed her back; she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she had woken up sick but shrugged it off as nothing.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"Yes, just feeling a little bit under the weather." she said.

"Well then," he purred, sweeping her into his arms, with a develish grin "maybe I should make you feel better." he said and carried her inside the tent.


	10. 10

10

Ron Weasley stumbled through the heavily wooded pass towards the place where he and the others had set up camp. Walking almost blindly in the dark, the deluminator clasped tightly in his fist as he knocked branches away from him. He ran on and on, groaning when branches snagged the shoulders of his home-made sweater, the seventeen year old let out an annoyed 'oof' when he fell flat on his face. Spitting out the dirt that came into his open mouth he swore and got to his feet. Darkness was creeping up on him faster and faster still as the night sped through him like a blinding swirling mist.

Dust flew in his eyes and made them burn, anxiously he blinked trying to focus, the crackle of leaves pounded his eardrums. It was an agonizing feeling as though the tunneling trees would never end; indeed there was no light at the end of the tunnel. The moon was fading fast behind the large curtain of snow clouds looming forbiddingly over his head. The red-head stopped running, panting in his tracks, sweat dribbled down his forehead to linger in salty sticky droplets. A dark shadow seeped through the moonlight to fade away, leaving an eerily relaxed light gleaming on his damp red-brown hair.

The Wizard let out a loud and rather impolite yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth as there seemed to be no one close enough so as to become offended. Slumping down near a tree his heavy eyelids drooped, he tried to force them open but found that he just did not have the strength. After all one could only stay awake for so long before their biological clock chimed their inner bedtime. So he picked up his wand and placed it just in front of his lips so that its wooden tip brushed their rims ever-so-slightly.

"Quietus," He muttered.

A jet of dull, goldenrod light jutted from his wand, it tickled his lips. He opened his mouth, trying to swallow its hotness without too much gagging. It stung him and burned his taste buds so startlingly that he had to cover his mouth to muffle a harsh hack. The magic knocked the wind out of him so fast that his head was rocked slightly.

The spell he'd just cast would mute his snore; something that he hoped would keep him safe for the night. And a good thing too, because if he did his, 'Buzz-saw Imitation' as Hermione had told him one night, the Death-Eaters would find him for sure. That was all he needed, confrontations with those bloody gits. No thanks, he had enough problems as it was: the girl he loved being one of them. Hermione, what had he done? It was that Horcrux that's what had made him do it, but she did not care anymore, did she?

Probably not, he _had_ been an asshole to her recently and it was only right that she would be angry with him still. He released a deep sigh and shivered, pulling his knees up to his chest to try and ward off some of the freeze that was sure to give him frostbite.

The night was quiet and still, but cold and bitter so he got up and gathered some thick branches and piled them one atop the other. "LarcarnumInflamarae." He whispered. A jet of fire flashed on the kindling and began to crackle pleasantly. Ron closed his eyes and drifted off.

When he woke up the next morning he resumed thinking about what to do with Hermione and how to ask her for forgiveness. Should he try the classic, I'm sorry?' no too overdone. Maybe groveling might work, no, too over-the-top. Ron sighed and sat down heavily and whacked his head against the tree trying to joggle his mind into thinking ideas that could be useful in his endeavors. Coming up empty-handed once more he got up.

"Hermione, I love you and…no," he paced back and forth. "Hermione I just want you to know that I'm sorry for…no," He held his chin in thought, "Hermione…you know how mean I can get sometimes but that's just how I am." He shook his head that would be as much help as a muggle gun leaving a ginormous hole in a vital part of him.

"Hermione I…UGH!" he slapped himself hard on the forehead, "Bloody Hell!" he mumbled rubbing his aching temple as an afterthought. What to do! What to do! Ron looked up at a tree and caught eyes with the yellow green pupil of an owl refusing to obey its nocturnal instincts. "What d'you think mate?"

The owl cocked its brown head, "Hoot." It said.

"Thought ye'd say that…" he muttered, feeling incredibly stupid for asking an owl for romantic council or of any kind for that matter. He sat down again and thought about his mother and, grinning when he remembered what a lovesick git she was when his Dad recited poetry on silly Muggle holidays like Valentine's Day. Maybe that might work for him? Yes, he would try poetry! Now the only trouble was where to find Hermione.

**Sorry for the wait I went out of town for Christmas!**


	11. 11

11

_ Hermione_

I had no clue what was wrong with me, I got sick regularly and by that I mean on a daily basis. Harry kept me in bed all the time, worrying over what was wrong with me and looking utterly exhausted from taking double-watch after double-watch. It did not matter how many times I told him that I was all right, or how many times I left the tent in order to take his place. He would simply tell me to go back to bed. Ugh! This was so annoying, mostly because I was bored out of my skull, never mind feeling yucky. It went on like this for months and I hated it to the point of going insane and yet the more I thought of it, the more shocked I became.

No it couldn't be that, it had only been once, no twice but still it wasn't enough to make that happen…was it? I put my face in my hands and thought of how to tell him, and felt a sudden pang of shock when I thought what this meant. I mean we're in the middle of a bloody war…great that's all we need. I started to cry, not really knowing the reason for my tears but knowing they had to be shed. My eyes ached with the pressure of them, and I felt lost in my shock. I was so upset that I threw up on myself.

The gagging hurt my throat and made it hard for me to stop convulsing with spasms, my cough racked my frame and I lurched forward my face almost falling into the mess. Then I felt a pair of arms come around me, strong and pale, and warm, lips grazing the top of my head and slight stubble scratching there. Harry.

"Mmm…" I moaned as the nausea faded away leaving a wave of dizziness in its wake.

"Shhh…" he murmured.

I snuggled closer to him, listening to the steady thumping of his heart, inhaling the musky scent of his sweater and shirt mingling with the papery smell of the melted snow. It was the sweetest cologne I had ever smelled.

I was in his arms and on his lap in a minute and he was wiping my mouth gently as he rocked me back and forth tenderly. As much as I knew I needed to tell him, I did not want to break the spell just yet, I wanted to be held just a little longer. Maybe even for the last time. Harry rested his head on mine, I raised my eyes to look at him and saw that he looked pitiful, eyes that looked as though he had been punched from tiredness and lids that could hardly be forced open. I pushed him down on the sleeping bag (the one that wasn't covered in puke) stroking back his hair.

"Her…Mione…" he mumbled, "I have… to keep watch…"

"No." I said, kissing him on the forehead, "You need to sleep, and I need to clean this up."

I gestured to the messy thing on the floor. I dragged it out of the tent and cleaned it with some spell I did not know the name of. Then she turned around to see Harry removing the flap of the tent to come out and take my hand in his. He pulled me gently into the tent, putting me on his lap and curving his arms around me.

"Harry," I said softly.

"Hmm?" he asked his voice sleepy.

"There something I have to tell you." My voice was shaky

"Unless It's that you love me I'm not interested." He said, I almost laughed.

"No Harry well yes-I love you- but that's not the point." I started, "Harry I'm…"

"Then that's all I need to know." He whispered, nuzzling the top of my head.

Harry leaned down and kissed me slowly, and for a moment I forgot my dilemma and the impending mess that our love had created. When we broke away from each other I opened my mouth to tell him the news but then I noticed his breathing had become even and deep.

When I looked up at him I saw that his eyes were closed and his glasses askew, a light snore came from him and his cheek lulled to my skullcap. The poor dear must have been so sleepy that even idle conversation exhausted him. I sighed and snuggled closer to him, pushing us both down on the sleeping bag.

Our problems could wait until morning, we were both tired as it was and it was easier to ignore them. So I curled up to him, yawning and listening to his snores as they rose in caliber and length. Yes, I would tell him what was wrong in the morning. Just one problem, when I woke up, he was gone.


	12. 12

11

12

_Harry_

Everything was going so well with me and Mione, things couldn't get better, just me and her with no one to interrupt our love. She and I had slept together, last night in one another's arms and for the first time since the start of this war I slept well. Although I do feel a bit guilty for falling asleep when she was trying to tell me something, but I was just _so_ tired. She did not seem to mind though, because when I woke up she was curled up on my chest like a little kitten. Looking positively adorable like always and for a while I just lay there petting that brown bushel of a mop atop her head.

As I lay there watching her sleep it gave me time to think over past events, lately more pleasant ones, I smiled. My favorite being of course, the time a few months back when she had given me everything she was. Not the most important thing I know…but hey, I 'm a teenage guy what do you expect? Now I was walking down the wooded pass to try and find that ruddy sword and feeling dizzy from going in circles. Finally I gave up and went about thinking about her, those brown eyes, the thick hair and the ever-so-annoying brilliant mind.

It wasn't that I wanted her to be stupid, it was just that her know-it-all mind could and usually did become annoying. Just then I came upon a glowing white doe that looked as beautiful and graceful as the creatures in those silly Disney characters I saw on TV. Still I followed it, as it lured me on and on deeper into the woods towards God only knows where and soon the animal was stopped in front of hunk –or rather a platter- of ice that looked as thick as that chick-flick about the ship that my aunt always watched. What was it again? Oh yeah, _Titanic_ cute move sucky ending though.

Anyway as I was wondering down the path and happened to see the doe and then the aforementioned events took place. I was puzzled as to why exactly the animal brought me to it until I saw something bright and shiny in the water, glinting as though there were gems at the top. The doe came to stand beside me, illuminating the ice so that it became see-through. The sword gleamed beneath the cover and then the doe did the strangest thing, it leaned down and nuzzled me with its snout.

For a moment I stood there, completely flabbergasted and then I reached down and stroked it. It did not have fur the way most animals did, in fact its pelt felt like nothing but air. Then I remembered the words of Professor Lupin:

_Yes, James was always a Stag when he transformed, you guessed right._

I blinked slowly remembering from my lessons in Muggle School that a stag was another name for a male deer. If my dad was a stag then my mom must've been…tears smarted in my eyes as I petted its nothingness.

"Mom…" I whispered.

The Patronus simply nuzzled me again and then, quick as a flash it was gone. I stood there for a moment and then I tried every breaking spell in the book. None of them worked, I even tried Accioing the bloody thing and yet, all it did was jiggle. Leaning down I touched the ice and felt a slight vibration coming from it, of course it was charmed! No doubt by bloody Dumbledore himself, ugh joker to the end! Always making my life difficult, first he dies (not really his fault) but then leaves me with a useless quidditch ball with an impossible message inside and then sends me on a wild goose chase to find relics of evil knowing I might get killed. Then to top it off, he leaves me a weapon that I can't get! Ugh I so hate him right now!

Heaving a deep sigh of frustration I started back towards the camp, maybe Hermione could help me out? When I reached the camp however, I saw her lying on a pile of leaves dead-to-the-world. I hated to wake her up but it couldn't be helped, so I tiptoed over to her and shook her gently by the shoulder. At first all she did was mumble and turn her face towards me so that her eyelids were gazing at me.

"Go 'way…" she mumbled, "sleeping…"

"Mione, it's me, Harry, I found the sword…"

She opened her eyes, blinking slightly as I helped her to her feet, then just when I felt we could have a serious conversation her mouth crashed into mine. I was surprised at first when she threw herself at me, not that I'm complaining. Maybe it was a mood-swing or something…

I was just starting to kiss her back when I heard: "Bloody Hell!"

We broke apart and I turned around, red hair, blue eyes and freckles: _Ron. _


	13. 13

**A/N: This story will be told in two parts and part 1 is coming to a close! (Two chaps to go!) The next installment will be Harry Potter and the Shattered Bond.**

13

Hermione gasped at the other man standing in the entrance, blushing at the possessive gleam in his eyes. Harry shrugged and turned his attention back to his lover, locking their eyes together. Her chocolate eyes melding to the emerald of his, forgetting the world with the sight of one another, just then and no one else to invade their perfect world.

"Oy," Ron snapped to get their attention.

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione's face, knowing that Ron had just come in and that he had spoken but not giving a damn. He did not want the moment to end; he wanted to hold her forever and ever, wanted to make love to her until all those demons were gone. She needed him too, Ron's arrival did not matter, and she leaned up and kissed him again cupping the back of his head. Harry stated to kiss her back, just parting her lips when he was shoved off by the red-head. He groaned and tumbled to the floor, getting back up to his feet, he made a move towards Hermione but Ron blocked his way.

"What the Hell mate?" Ron shouted, "Wha' are y'doin with **her**?" He gave Harry a look that said, 'with my girl.'

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked shoving by him. The teenager turned with a glare, "repairing what you destroyed!" He shouted the last part and went to Hermione's side, "You broke her heart and I _honestly_ love her. "

"Really," Ron scoffed, "Well she loves _me_ more anyway."

"Apparently not," Harry smirked, "or did you not notice the scene you just interrupted?"

"Aw, that was nothin'!" Ron said arrogantly, flashing a grin.

"Right," Harry said with an almost tender click of his tongue, "Tell me this Ron, tell me this, has she ever kissed you like-_this?"_

Harry caught her head in the cup of his palm, spending several moments, looking into her eyes and then slowly, very slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was warm and smooth, sweeping her away, that it brought tears brimming to her closed eyelids. She wrapped her arms around his neck, remembering the roughness of Ron's kiss, comparing the two. She kissed him back, warmly, a melting gesture to bind them together in a forever melding bond.

When at last they had broken the kiss Ron was standing looking absolutely flabbergasted and then he let out a jealous shout and shoved Harry away. Then he grabbed Hermione by the wrist and brought his mouth crashing into hers. She was so shocked that she gasped and Ron drilled his tongue into his mouth.

"Well, just watching that made me wanna puke!" Harry said, his eyes dancing with self-assurance.

"Oh yeah, well Hermione you pick now," Ron said glaring at him viciously, "Go on me or him?"

She looked from one to the other, taking in the sight of the man who was her first love. So many memories with him: Their first kiss, the night she had danced with him, the way he always asked her for help with his homework. There were so many memories with Ron…but then the darkness of her recent events with him came to mind, the brutal way he treated her in the tent on that night. The way he had stormed off on her in a jealous rage, not giving a damn for her shattered heart. The many tears she had cried and the nights she had begged him to return to her. All those tears he had ignored when she went after him.

_"Ron please…" she'd called, "please…" _

_"PLEASE WHAT?" He hollered turning on her roughly, the volume of it causing her to flinch._

_"Ron I…" she started._

_"Ron I…" he mocked her, "Go back! You picked!"_

_"Ron…" she half sobbed wanting him to run into his arms and beg his forgiveness._

_"NO!" he shouted shoving her back when she reached up to touch his face._

_"Ow," she groaned when she tumbled to the ground, scraping her elbow. "Ron!" she called him, "Ron!" her cries turned to wails of agony. He did not turn around and continuing to fade away._

_Harry had come out then and pulled her gently up by her uninjured arm and wrapped one arm around her and made 'shushing' sounds until it dimmed to hiccoughs. He had carried her tenderly into the tent and laid her down as he rooted through the bag for bandages. Harry took out the bottle of water and sprinkled it on her injury; he bandaged it and kissed it. The he took her up into his arms and laid her down inside the sleeping bag, zipping it to her chin._

_"Ron…" she sobbed, "Oh God, why did he leave me –us- when we needed him the most?" _

_"Shh, c'mere," he lifted her head into the cup of the cap in the sleeping bag. He began to hum softly to the tune of 'hush little baby' until her breath calmed and her eyes closed._

How gentle he had been that night when she had thought all was lost and Ron had been right: she had picked. Hermione wrapped one arm around Harry, casting Ron a sympathetic glance when she saw him close his eyes in pain. He really did love her, but she was just not in love with him… he just wasn't Harry. She _cared _for him though in that nostalgic way of those who have loved and lost. But she loved the one holding her right now.

She only hoped it would not be too much for him to handle…hoped he would not snap…


	14. 14

14

Ron stared at them from inside of the tent, his blue eyes feverish with jealousy whenever Hermione laughed at one of Harry's jokes or blushed at him. He wanted her in his arms, tight and safe where she should be, but no she was in _his._ Harry smiled at her and brushed a strand of wavy brown hair from her face, calm and cool and self-assured as he whispered something to her softly. It hurt Ron to see them together to know what he could have had for himself and had foolishly thrown it away. He felt sick seeing those two together beside one another; her head nestled in his shoulder and his arm around her back.

How he wished that could be him in her arms, spinning her around in circles and causing her to give out peels of girlish laughter when he swept her off her feet. How he cursed himself now, knowing that all he could have possessed was glaring at him, that fate was punishing him for his own stupidity. Ron could see the bump forming in her belly, knew that his earlier statement had been right, she _had_ picked and she had chosen **him. **Harry's laughter resounded in his ears as she pushed him down on the semi-soft dirt and Ron turned away.

Then Ron heard it, that one fatal sentence telling him all was lost. He heard: "Harry, I'm pregnant."

He saw Harry's mouth turn up, heard the shock in his voice: "Really?"

"Yes, Harry I am going to have a baby," Hermione's voice.

"Well then you _have _to marry me!" Harry's hopeful voice, orderly all the same.

"YES!"

Ron turned away when Harry swept her into his arms and kissed her, when her legs belted them. It was more than he could take and he shut the flap of the tent, tears hot and jealous peppered his eyes causing them to ache. He hated the sound of Harry's voice, so light and breezy as he whispered over how beautiful the child was going to be, how he hoped him or her –preferably a girl would look and what a protective dad he was going to be, ugh he hated every last minute of it.

That child should have been his, not coming out with a chance of black hair the shade of jet-smoke. No chance of green eyes and marble-like skin, but with genes of fire-red and eyes as blue as the sky. He put his face in his hands, needing to sleep but unable to close his eyes because of what he had just seen. The image of the couple outside would haunt him forever, the sound of their laughter would echo in his ears till he was dead.

But then his eyes snapped open and a pang of fear consumed him that they were in a war and the child… _Hermione's _child would be in danger. So much danger, of course this was perfect, just bloody perfect! He cursed Harry when he heard him whispering, not saying anything but just blowing warm air into her ear. The sound of her soft sigh and the light _squish_ of a chase but persistent kiss, it sickened him.

The night was falling on them slowly and for the first time, Ron who was afraid of the dark wished it would hurry so they could go to sleep. When they went to sleep, he would not have to hear the couple, he could let his mind fade away. He could go back to a time when everything was simple, calm and right. The time when Hermione was his and Ginny…oh God Ginny… what would she think when Harry returned from war and carried a baby that resembled Hermione, her heart would break.

He sighed and went outside the tent to where Harry stood tossing little stones across the river a faraway expression on his face. Ron stood beside him silent, counting the little echoing splashes as he watched the ringlets mar their reflection. He cleared his throat and touched Harry on the shoulder, causing the teenager to nearly jump out of his skin.

"Harry wha' you going to do about the Horcruxs?" He asked

"Say what?" Harry asked suddenly alert.

"Yeah, we're in a warhere Harry…_a war." _His voice was impatient.

"Thank you Captain Obvious." Harry said, cupping his chin in thought, "I dunno, but now the kid and…oh GOD the kid!"

The gravity of their situation hit him full force. Hermione was with child…in the middle of the biggest war in Wizard history. He was on the run from a man so wickedso _evil _that he had tried to kill a one-year-old orphan in cold blood. Worse, his mother's 'ultimate protection' did not work anymore because of that rat Wormtail and though Hermione's love might provide the ultimate protection he shuddered at the price of it.

"Step One: we figure out to destroy the locket." Harry said, "Step two: We destroy the bloody thing."


	15. 15

15

_I have only myself to blame… I have only myself to blame… I have only myself to blame… _

The phrase pounded at Ron's head as he lay atop his sleeping bag, what had he done? The fire was crackling pleasantly outside and the whole world was quiet save for the quiet rustle of the wind in the trees. He heard footsteps outside, but knew they were Harry's because of the soft crush of the leaves beneath his feet so close beside the tent. He heard him coming closer to someone and he wanted to cry. It hurt like hell when Ron heard them together and _this…this_ hurt more than anything:

"Hermione… you said you like musical theater right?" Harry said softly.

"Yeah so?" Hermione replied.

"Well… what's your favorite play?" he asked her.

"I've told you before… it's _Phantom of the Opera."_

Ron heard Harry sigh softly, and getting to his knees he peeped out from behind the tent flap to see Harry smirking. He said something Ron did not catch, saw her smack him playfully on the arm and then:

"Well…" Harry started to sing softly:

_"Then say you'll share with me one love on lifetime…_

_Let me lead you from your solitude…_

_Say you need me with you here, beside you…_

_Anywhere you go let me go too…_

_'Mione that's all I ask of you…"_

Hermione's brown eyes lit up so brightly they almost changed color and became a lighter shade of brown.

"But I already said yes." She whispered.

"I know, but I kinda blurted that one out, I wanted to do it properly." He replied.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring. Ron could tell it had diamonds in it and he wondered where he had gotten it at a time like this.

"Oh Harry…" there were tears in her eyes, "How did you…"

"It was my mum's, I carry it everywhere because it kept her close…I know she would like it if I gave it to you." He said and kissed her.

Ron closed the tent and heaved a sigh as he lay back down, listening to the two of them making love. Tears hot and bitter made their harsh way down his face…

_I have only myself to blame… _


	16. Sequel is up!

**Harry Potter and the  
shattered Bond is up! Please read and review!**


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